Fix You
by Oliviet
Summary: Finn wasn't kidding when he said that all hell was going to break loose. A sort of post-ep one shot for "The Parents in the Divorce."


_3:45 AM_

She wakes in tears, the nightmares still all too vivid in her mind. She turns to stare at Booth's sleeping form, realizing that the nightmare was true, well part of it anyway. He's not there. And neither are his discarded boxers, or his pillow, or the extra blanket from the foot of the bed. She assumes he's probably retreated to the living room couch, not being able to stand being in the same room with her for more time than was needed. She screwed up.

Brennan searches the floor for her clothes and then realizes she had lost those downstairs. The, oh what was the term for it…"hate sex" had been good and rough and exactly what she needed. She pictures his hands roaming her skin, and his mouth, oh his _mouth_. A shiver runs through her body at just the thought.

It was something she had needed, _craved_, after three months with nothing but the spare moment she got with herself in the shower. And she had told him this amongst their yelling match. Amongst their screaming and shouting about marriage and her leaving and wow had she really brought Hannah into this? She can't even remember exactly what had been said other than it had been hurtful and she had slapped him and somehow all of this arguing had ended with them in bed.

This must have been what Finn meant when he told her that all hell was going to break loose. Things had been fine, or so she thought. They had made up, or so she thought. But then he started complaining about how he had wanted to cook for her, and did she really have to go and do it when they both knew that he was the better cook, and it all just ticked her off so much that they were suddenly at each other's throats.

Brennan finds her robe from the bathroom and stops in to check on Christine. She's fine; peacefully asleep and unaware of her parents' bickering. She moves to the top of the steps and can see Booth asleep on the couch. He looks about ready to fall off it and the blanket is nowhere near long enough to cover his tall form. She descends the stairs and sits in the chair near his head.

"I know you're awake," she whispers, not buying into fact that he finds this position comfortable.

He opens one eye to look at her, the white of his eye oddly bright from the moonlight cascading in from the window behind them.

"What do you want?" he mutters rolling onto his side so his back is to her.

"Couldn't sleep. Too many nightmares."

"You still having those? Same ones?"

She nods even though she knows he can't see her. "Same ones."

He sits up at that, his gaze finding hers in the darkness. He doesn't say anything and neither does she. Eventually she gets up to sit beside him on the couch.

"What are we doing, Booth?" she asks, softly. "All of this fighting…it isn't us."

"We used to fight all of the time. And that was like what, the third time you've slapped me now?"

"We need to fix this."

"Right now? It's the middle of the night."

She wipes at her eyes, hating how emotional she's become ever since she became a mother. "Just come back to bed with me. Please. You're not comfortable down here anyway."

Without a word he stands and gathers up his bedding and then heads for the stairs. He turns back to look at her with a look that even in the darkness she reads as "you coming or what?" She joins him and they walk back to their room together. She instinctively wants to reach for his hand, but refrains herself from doing so. He lays down with his back to her again. So this is what they've become; two hollow shells of people once so in love.

* * *

_8:15 AM_

When she wakes, she notices that they have shifted their positions in the night. Her head is now at his shoulder and his arm is now draped across her torso. They were still lovers in sleep at least, ever if their waking minds were trying to tell them otherwise. She hums as he starts to come to, dreading the moment he will push her away. But as his eyes flutter open to focus on her, he makes no effort to untangle himself from between her limbs. Instead, he reaches across her, plucking her phone off the night stand and handing it to her.

"You're calling in sick," he tells her.

"But I'm not sick."

"I'm calling in sick too and we're going to spend today working through things."

"Why don't we just wait until the weekend when –"

"No, no waiting. I can't have you walking around here like a kicked puppy for two more days."

"But I don't –"

"I'll go check on Christine," he says already getting out of bed and pulling a clean T-shirt on over his head. "I'll meet you downstairs in 15 minutes. I'm making breakfast."

She watches him leave, her heart heavy as she dials Cam's number. This isn't something they can just fix in a day. They have some serious issues. Cam answers on the third ring and Brennan tells her she isn't feeling very well. Cam asks her if this has anything to do with her breakdown in the lab yesterday. She denies it even though her childish temper tantrum had everything to do with Booth.

Brennan hangs up and moves to stand in front of her closet. She runs her hands over her row of silky blouses with a sigh. She doesn't feel like looking cute today; she just wants to be comfortable. She decides on Booth's oversized FBI sweatshirt and a pair of cut off shorts made of a super soft material that she honestly forgot she owned.

Booth is busy scrambling eggs when she walks into the kitchen. He glances over at her as she takes a seat at the island.

"Where did you find those shorts?" he asks, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Back of the closet," she answers, toying with the edge of this morning's newspaper. "I got them when I was painting my apartment."

"Well, I like them. I like seeing you in sweats. It makes you seem like…more of a person."

"As opposed to me being what, a robot?"

"No, I didn't mean it like –"

"Your eggs are burning."

She picks up the paper and heads into the living room, her residual anger from last night already beginning to burn in the pit of her stomach. He'd called her a robot last night even though he knows how self-conscious she is about everyone thinking that she's cold. Booth wanders in after her, a few minutes later offering her a cup of coffee. She takes the warm mug from him, letting the smell calm her nerves.

"I'm sorry," Booth says softly avoiding her eyes. "I didn't mean…I know you're not a robot, Bones. I know how much you love me and our daughter and your friends. I know what you're capable of…I know you."

"It's funny you say that and yet you were oblivious to me and my feelings for an entire year."

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You seriously just need to let that go. We've moved on."

"We moved on because we never talked about it! And _seriously_ you need to stop telling me what I can and can't do. This is _my_ life."

"It's _our_ life. It became that way the moment you got pregnant and bound us together for the rest of her life."

"I'm not the one who forgot to put on a condom!"

"You were on birth control; that was supposed to be enough!"

She buries her head in her hands as the tears come.

"Why are we fighting about this?" she chokes out. "Christine is our daughter and we love her."

"Because it all happened so fast. We barely had the chance to just be together before we were forced into this role of parents. And everything, the Hannah thing, the marriage thing, it just all got put on the back burner because we were doing such a good job at being happy."

She needs him to hold her. She needs him to just wrap her up in his arms and tell her that everything is going to be okay. She just needs…a moment to breathe.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way," she whispers. "You and I."

"Then what was supposed to happen, woman who doesn't believe in fate?"

"We were supposed to come back from that summer, single and ready to be together."

"Everything always comes back to that with you, huh? What about that night outside of Sweets' office? This is all on you, Brennan. All you had to do was say yes."

She's crying harder now, wondering how it's possible that he has yet to shed a single tear.

"So you're saying all of our issues, all of our problems, they stem out of that one single night?" she asks bitterly. "You just want to put all of the blame on me; use me as a scapegoat."

Her palms are itching like she wants to slap him again. Because she does. She wants to punch him and use curse words and just get him to _listen_.

"Well if you had just told me yes that night, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Her anger bubbles up out of the top.

"You arrogant ass! How dare you try to pin all of this on me!"

"Because it's true!"

"I can't…if this is your idea of fixing things, it's not working and I'd rather just go in to work."

The timer on the oven goes off and Booth moves back into the kitchen to deal with it. She stands and slowly makes her way to the dining room table. Suddenly he's behind her, his broad arms encircling her and pulling her back to his chest. She can't stop the sob from escaping her lips. He buries his face in her neck and she can feel the wetness of his cheeks. He finally broke.

* * *

_9:36 AM_

They ate in silence. They cleared the table in silence. Christine started crying and Brennan went to change her and bring her downstairs into the silence. She sets her daughter down in her playpen and she happily pushes her ball around. She has no idea her parents are on the verge of splitting. Brennan sits on the couch, and Booth soon joins her. He takes her hand in his and starts rubbing small circles into it with his thumb. She's lulled by it and allows her head to fall onto his shoulder.

"Why don't you want to marry me?" he finally manages to ask.

"It's not you. I just don't want to get married, period. You've known that for years."

"I've also known you to not believe in love and to not want kids."

"So I've changed. My view on marriage hasn't. And besides, weren't you just saying earlier that we jumped into all of this too fast? Marriage shouldn't even be an issue right now."

"But it is an issue. If I get shot, I want you to have the rights to see me in the hospital and make decisions on my behalf. If you get framed for murder, I want the right that allows me to be able to protect you in court. I just need to know that you're in this."

"I bought a house with you and sold my apartment. I'm in this."

She gets up suddenly, noticing her bra from last night stuffed under a chair. She picks it up, traces a finger over the lace. Brennan turns back to him, raises an eyebrow.

"You took this off by the foot of the stairs. How did it get all the way over here?"

He shrugs. "I was pissed. And I have to say, angry hate sex works for us."

"Well then maybe we should just stay pissed at each other."

"I don't want that."

"No?"

He shakes his head.

"Then _talk_ to me."

"…I don't know where to start."

* * *

_11:13 AM_

"That's it, I'm calling Sweets to come moderate," she grumbles, pulling out her phone.

"No, don't do that. We don't need him," he pouts.

"Booth, every time we make any progress, one of us says something that completely sets us back. We can't do this on our own, we need help."

He groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. "When did this all get so hard?"

"What?"

"You and me. We used to get along great. We used to be the best of friends."

"We didn't live together then. Maybe that's our problem; we're around each other too much with work and home."

"I don't want a new partner."

"Neither do I," she says honestly, looking him in the eyes.

"Okay, so maybe we just need to set some ground rules. Like…no more secrets."

"I haven't been keeping anything from you."

"You disappeared for three months!"

"I – well, you faked your death and didn't tell me about it!"

"That was like five years ago, Bones!"

"Well, I'm still bitter about it."

"I feel like you're arguing with me just to argue. Do you even want this to work?"

She shrugs. What she wants is an Advil. All of this arguing is giving her a headache.

* * *

_1:05 PM_

"Maybe we're just too different," she says sullenly, picking at the left over crust from her sandwich.

"No," he tells her a little too forcefully. "We're good together. So fucking good."

"Booth, you want a wife and I don't want a husband. We both want different things."

"What I want is you, all right? You're my first choice, not Hannah, so get that out of your head. I want to wake up every morning next to you. I want to fall asleep with your head on my chest after a round of mind-blowing sex. I want to grow old with you in this house as we raise our daughter to be an amazing person. I love you, Bones, _you_. I guess I don't…I don't need to be married to be happy. I just need you."

She looks at him through her eyelashes, tears welling up yet again. "I want all of that too."

"But?" he presses bitterly, knowing she has more, potentially hurtful, things to add.

"I don't know," she answers softly.

"You don't know what? If you can do this? Do you even want this?"

"I don't know!"

She's screaming and crying again. She doesn't know what she wants anymore and it's killing her. Of course she wants him, doesn't she? This is her Booth, the father of her child, the man she loves, the man she would kill to protect and who would do the same for her in a heartbeat. So then why doesn't she know?

"You don't know," he repeats shaking his head and clenching his fist. She fears he's going to punch something…or her. "How can you just suddenly not know?"

"I know that I love you, but after all of this I just…something doesn't feel right. We're not ourselves anymore and I don't know how to bring our old selves back. I don't think we can ever go back to being the people we were."

He reaches out grabbing her by the shoulders. His grip is strong, almost hurting her.

"I will not let you end this," he grits out.

"I'm not trying to end it. I'm just trying to figure out what went wrong."

* * *

_2:52 PM_

They moved back up to their bedroom, needing a change of scenery. Christine is napping soundly in her crib. Brennan is sitting on her side of the bed, staring out the window at a squirrel skittering around a tree. She's dazed; doesn't feel like fighting anymore, or even talking. She just wants to sit and stare and forget. Booth is sprawled out on his side of the bed reading the paper. They haven't said a word to each other for a good 45 minutes. Has she really been mindlessly staring out the window for that long?

She turns to him, her lips quirking up at the edges at the sight of his "Boothy" socks. The slightest resemblance of normalcy in this whole ordeal. It's only 3 PM, but she's so tired, drained, that she could honestly just fall asleep now. So she lies down, snuggling into his side out of habit. He startles at the sudden contact, looking down from the sports section at the top of her head. He drops the paper on the floor and pulls her into his arms, sliding down onto his pillow so their heads bump together.

"I love you," he whispers into her hair.

"I know."

He hugs her tighter and she hugs him back just as tight.

"I'm sorry," she tells him after a moment.

"I know."

* * *

_6:09 PM_

They fell asleep; took a three hour nap tightly wrapped up in each other's arms. Her neck is stiff and she has to roll it back and forth to loosen it up.

"Shall we order some take out?" Booth asks, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.

"Yeah that sounds good," she agrees, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"Thai food?"

"The usual?"

Booth picks his phone up from where it landed on the floor and orders their usual from their favorite restaurant.

"30 minutes," he tells her, hanging up.

She's staring out the window mindlessly again, when Booth moves to stand in front of her. He kneels down so he's more at her eyelevel, but really he's below it now since the bed is so high up. She smiles softly, starts aimlessly running her fingers through his hair.

"What are you doing?" he smirks.

She shrugs. "Well, you just knelt down in front of me so…I don't know. Felt like it was something that I should do."

"Do you think we fixed _anything_ today?"

"I no longer have the desire to slap you, if that's what you mean."

He laughs. He actually laughs. And the sound is so good, so sweet, that she can't help but laugh with him. It feels good too with the way it just bubbles up and makes her sides ache. Normalcy.

"Well that's definitely a step in the right direction," he smiles.

"We still have a long way to go though, before everything is okay between us."

"The night is young."

"I do want things to work. What I said earlier –"

"I know, Bones. Like I said, I know you."

It's her turn to smile as she leans down to kiss him. The first kiss they've shared during all of this and suddenly he's lying on top of her and has their hands twined above her head.

"Booth, the food is going to be here in like 20 minutes."

"That's plenty of time."

"Not for me, it isn't."

He looks down at her, watches as her eyes darken.

"Pardon my language, but I've been fucked with enough for one day. Just…let's make love tonight. Remind ourselves that –"

He cuts her off by kissing her again, nipping at her lips and tangling his tongue with her own. He pulls away, rests his forehead against hers.

"I never thought I'd see the day when I'd hear you utter the words 'make love.' My goodness, Temperance Brennan, how you've changed."

She smirks, snaking her hands under his shirt to feel the muscles of his back. She rather loves that back of his.

"I think we're going to be just fine, Booth. We can fix this, fix us."

* * *

AN: I'm not really sure what this was. I just felt compelled to write this so here it is. I hope it gave you "all the feels."


End file.
